


Resurrection - Darkness Stirs

by pushkin666



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I love John Winchester, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-10
Updated: 2010-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Yellow Eyed Demon raises John from the dead</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection - Darkness Stirs

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written way back in Series 2.

A figure in the mist, he stands silent and thoughtful waiting for the moment to come. He knows that tonight is the best night to try this - an easy night when those ancestors who have crossed the veil have the ability to reach out and contact those they have left behind. And of course let's not forget those souls trapped in Hell.

It is the evening of 31st October and everything is in place. The night once known and celebrated as Samhain, now Halloween. The night when the barrier between the worlds runs thin - now is the time for him to fetch his desire.

He chuckles softly and goes to his knees, crouching down next to the bound and gagged figure lying on the forest earth. She is naked, her clothes discarded at the side of her body. He trails his hands slowly over the bruises he has left on her, smiles down at her. Her beauty still shows even through the fear and the marks on her body. As soon as he saw her he knew that she would be the one to use, the perfect holy item.

He takes a handful of dark hair and pulling the head back rests the knife against the pale white throat. It is a superbly crafted weapon, the sharp blade gleaming in the moonlight. It belonged to the man he intends to call back, something that was used again and again to hunt down demons and kill them. He holds the knife against her throat for a moment, enjoying the panicked breathing. He holds those pleading dark eyes with his own, and without any concern or compassion for her he slashes the knife across her throat, slicing through the artery. The red of her blood decorates the white of her skin. Just like Snow White, he thinks.

Standing, he places his booted foot underneath her slight body and he rolls her until she is face down. He watches as the blood spurts out onto the earth below; feeding it, transferring her energy, stealing her young life.

A sacrifice is always required especially when he's dealing with this particular demon. Valmar does not give up souls easily, especially souls of hunters. But this was put in place over a year ago. On the day that John Winchester bartered his life for that of his eldest son, another agreement was reached.

He kneels again, and using the knife, cuts sigils into her back, marking her so they will know to take her. He cocks his head and listens to the words, voices so high that only he can hear them. The contract is finalised, the deposit accepted. Further payment will be required, more deaths needed for the fulfilment of the contract made that night of John's death. This ... this is just a down payment.

He picks up her sweater, the wool soft in his hands, and wipes the bloody knife on it, ensuring that the weapon is clean. He would not want the blade to be put away dirty. He runs his hand over her dark hair. Foolish child - she should have known better than to come out with a stranger on Halloween, but his ready smile, the flash of his eyes and his whisky rough voice were more than sufficient for her to forget the warnings given to her by friends and family. He carefully sheaths the knife, and rising to his feet again, he waits.

He spares her no further thought - she is not important. She never was. She was simply a means to an end. What he is interested in is what will replace her.

Whenever he's taken human form over the centuries he has always made sure that he enjoys every possible sin, every lust and vice that he could. There have been many lovers, many victims over the years but he has never wanted somebody as much as he wants John Winchester. Their obsession with each other is unforgiving, binding and eternal. He wants to break the hunter, to bend him over and spread him out like the whore that he will become. He wants to take him, to make John Winchester his new creation.

He allowed John to die because he needed the Colt, needed the time for Sam and all the other children to come into their power. He needed John out of the way for that. No matter how much John may love his children he would have destroyed Sam and that ... would have been unacceptable. John is a hunter, always has been, but now the hunter will become the hunted.

He smiles. John has suffered over the months he has been in Hell and for that he is glad. He knows full well what John has endured, has on occasion been lucky enough to bear witness to John's torture and pain. The only reason John hasn't been raped by demons is due to him and for that the man should be grateful. He somehow doubts that John will be fulsome in his thanks.

The air begins to chill and he shivers, pulling the jacket close around him. There are disadvantages to possessing human beings, not least having to listen to the constant internal whining when the human is initially taken. Sometimes it's fun to allow that spark, that being, to remain alive but this one died along time ago. When he finally discards this body there will be nothing left - it is simply a shell.

The ground trembles beneath his feet and he spreads his legs slightly, anchoring himself. They will not allow themselves to be seen but he can feel them around him, holding her soul back from heaven with the net they have cast over her body. She is promised to Hell's denizens. She will be a pretty little thing for them to play with. The ground shakes more violently and a dull boom is heard. The ground beneath her opens up, her body slowly disappearing into it, sucked down until nothing of her remains. As if she was never there. He waits.

Another dull boom, more shaking, and a wry smile crosses his face. Such theatrics are unnecessary but who is he to tell the other demon how these games should be played out. And then, as hoped, the body of John Winchester is thrown up and out of the pit, a body newly created replacing the one burnt by his sons. The ground closes and he looks down through yellow eyes at his prize.


End file.
